


Hold Still

by TheCurvedWritingDesk



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One-Shot, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24567289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCurvedWritingDesk/pseuds/TheCurvedWritingDesk
Summary: Tora gets locked in a closet. Poppy tries to comfort him. Pure fluff.
Relationships: Tora/Poppy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 145





	Hold Still

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two ♥ Just a little bit of weekend fluff to break up my chapter fics. Let me know what you think :)
> 
> Song suggestion: A Woman's Worth by Alicia Keys

Tora banged on the door for the sixth time in the last two minutes, how the fuck had this happened? Well, he knew how this had happened; he just wasn’t sure why the kami seemed to enjoy laughing at him so much. He glanced back at the small woman sitting on the bucket behind him. She had her arms crossed, an apathetic look on her face. “No one’s going to hear your ruckus Tora, there’s no one else in the building,” she sighed, “Just face it, we’re trapped here until morning.”

Tora wasn’t down for that, not by a long shot, he refused to spend the night in this closet. It was barely large enough to hold both of them, he was already feeling a tight pressure in his chest. He needed to be let the fuck out. He beat his fist against the door once more for good measure. Poppy reached up and tugged on the hem of his hoddie, “seriously Tora, stop it. You’ll just end up hurting your hand.” His brows rose in distress, fuck him and his fucking feet. It was his fault they were trapped.

“Fuck it, I’m kicking down this door,” Tora muttered, raising his leg to deliver a blow to the center of the door. His foot never made it though, as he was thrown off balance by the small arms that circled his torso and attempted to pull him back away from his target. Her back pressed against the wall, her nose poking into the centre of his spine as he stumbled backwards into her. He caught his weight on his palms as he flattened them onto the wall to either side of her small frame in an attempt not to crush her. “What the fuck Poppy?” he questioned once he had regained his balance.

She tightened her grip on him, digging her fingers into him, attempting to hold him still, “Please Tora, stop it. This gallery is the first to ever be interested in my art. Don’t vandalize the place. Someone will come and let us out tomorrow morning. I know it’ll be uncomfortable for you but, please, don’t mess this up for me.” Poppy pleaded, her voice slightly muffled by his sweater.

Tora grit his teeth, she seriously wanted to spend the night in this closet with him? He wasn’t sure he could do it. She didn’t know yet about his claustrophobia, a shitty side effect of his imprisonment as a child. He really didn’t like being confined. His hands came to settle atop hers and peeled them away from his body. “Naw Poppy, I know this is important to ya but I need to get the fuck outta here. I’ll pay for whatever damage I do but I need out.” He explained, taking a step forward before her arms were on him again, this time around his neck as she jumped on his back, her legs wrapping around him to cross her ankles over his abdomen.

Poppy was frantic, she needed to stop him, he couldn’t just destroy property, especially when their predicament was entirely his fault! She’d told him not carry so many boxes at once, “Don’t even think about it MISTER!” she shouted, leaning back, trying to use her weight to drive him backwards, away from the door.

Tora was ready this time; he planted his feet and bent his knees into a horse stance, impervious to her slight weight. “For fuck’s sake Poppy, get off my back! We’re getting out of here and that’s final!” He spun in half circles from side to side, attempting to shake off his small girlfriend. She clung to him, refusing to release him. Her eyes screwed shut as he tried to push her legs away from him. “Seriously Poppylan, stop. What are you, twelve? Get the fuck off me!” He scolded her, raising his voice.

Poppy was determined, there was no way she was letting him destroy any part of this building, not as long as she could help it. “Not until you promise to just be still!” she shouted over the decibel of his cursing. Tora froze, every muscle in his body like stone. Poppy slowly released him, gradually sliding off his back until her toes touched the ground. She circled around to face him, one of her hands refusing to let go of the arm of his sweater lest he try to ram the door. She peered up at him, turning imploring eyes on him, “please Tora, don’t mess this up for me. I really want to display my art here. It’s not my fault you kicked the bucket, don’t punish me for it.”

Her whispered entreaty shot right through his heart, “I don’t like small spaces Poppy.” He explained, trying to make her understand.

“You seem to like being in me just fine,” Poppy retorted without missing a beat, smiling up at him.

Tora smirked, “I don’t like being caged,” he clarified, refusing to dignify her joke with a response. “I don’t handle shit like this well,” he explained, gesturing at the locked door three feet from him.

Poppy giggled at him, “no way, the ‘Tiger of Ares Street’ is claustrophobic?” she teased, bringing curled fingers to her mouth as she snickered. “It’s a closet Tora, nothing to be afraid of.”

Tora took in the small space; a broom leaned uselessly in the back right corner of the room, the bucket that had been holding the door open sat two feet from it, over turned by Poppy when she had decided to use it as a perch. The boxes of canvases and varied oil and water paints sat in the other corner, where he had dropped them when he’d heard the door slam behind them. There was a storage shelf to his right, stacked with boxes of varying sizes. There were no windows, only walls, all the way around him. If Tora stretched out his arms, he’d be able to brush his fingers tips against the walls to either side of him. He didn’t think this was fucking funny at all. He only had six square feet of walking room, less with Poppy taking up half of it. “I’m not afraid.” He spat, the words coming out harsh, a challenge in his tone.

Her eyes widened in surprise. He was really upset, she had just been teasing, she hadn’t meant any harm. She slid her arms around him, her fingers balling themselves into the back of his hoodie as she pressed her cheek to his chest. His arms circled her, holding her soft body against his tightly. “Of course not Tora, you’re not afraid of anything,” she placated him, her tone sincere. Poppy knew her large boyfriend needed his ego stroked from time to time, especially when he felt his masculinity was being threatened. She had come to learn in the six months they had been together that he was much more fragile than he looked. He squeezed her, well aware she was trying to comfort him.

He frown down at the top of her head, “please Poppy, let me bust us out. I can’t breathe in here. It’s suffocating,” he whined as they embraced in the center of the small space. She stared up at him, her chin balanced on his chest. She studied him, he looked pale and was starting to sweat, his eyes wild with something she wasn’t able to read.

Poppy snuggled deeper into his chest before replying, “I really would prefer you didn’t but if you need to, I understand,” she sighed into the material of his sweater. She felt his body sag under the weight of her words.

Tora bit his lip to keep from vocalizing a whimper, he hated disappointing her but he really wasn’t sure he could do this. It was only shortly after nine, they had stayed late to finish setting up her exhibit; the curator having given her special permission to finish it after hours due to her daytime work schedule. No one was coming back until seven the next morning. Could he really last ten hours? If she wasn’t here he would have already had the door off its hinges. “Poppy, I-I need out,” he stammered, “don’t be mad.”

She released him and took two steps back, pressing her back to the far wall before sliding down it, resting her bottom on the cold floor bringing her knees to her chest. “It’s okay Tora,” she sighed, knowing there was no way the curator would still want to display her work after the destruction he was about to wreak on the closet and subsequent door frame. The bald man had told her in no uncertain terms that he was trusting her to finish and lock up as a personal favour, they weren’t even supposed to be here. Letting an artist be alone in the gallery was a policy no-no. “Knock yourself out,” she huffed.

Tora examined her, the curled and hunched set of her shoulders, her forehead resting on her forearms as they folded over her knees. He knew this was important to her. She did so much for him, the least he could do was face his stupid fear for her. He crouched in front of her, his large palm wrapping around her calf. She raised her head to look at him. He looked so apprehensive; she threw her arms open wide for him, beckoning him into her embrace. He pulled her calf to the side, spreading her legs. He twisted around, scooting himself backwards into her as her arms circled around him, her hands coming to rest on his chest as his head pillowed against her breasts. He kept his knees bent, feet flat on the floor, unable to stretch out in the small space as he leaned against her. One of his hands pressed atop one of hers, the other reaching down to settle on her knee. She pressed her lips to his temple, using her free hand to play with his hair, brushing it gently away from his eyes, her kiss a silent thank you for choosing to put her first.

He looked up at her through his lashes with a small smile, “Damn Bobby, pretty hard to break down the door with you holding me still,” he muttered, enjoying the feel of her fingers on his scalp, pleased when she only smirked at him knowingly. 


End file.
